


Habits

by memefucker69



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Binge Drinking, Depression, M/M, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/memefucker69/pseuds/memefucker69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jongin goes from person to person to numb the void in his heart that Kyungsoo left.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Habits

**Author's Note:**

> loosely inspired by habits by tove lo
> 
> **warnings: angst, sex, binge drinking/eating, depression/suicidal thoughts**

He hears the phone ring, but he doesn’t move. He feels the throbbing of his head and the churning in his stomach, but he doesn’t even twitch. Maybe if he lies there long enough, he’ll slip slowly into death. Everything will numb into black and he won’t have to exist anymore, won’t have to pretend anymore. As the phone cries out its last ring of plea, the room stills with silence before the shrill tone of the answering machine echoes throughout the house.

_“Hello! You’ve reached the home of Kim Jongin and—hyung, you have to say something too!—and Do Kyungsoo! Leave a message and we’ll get back to you later!”_

_“Jongin, honey, we’re really worried about you. Are you not going to come to dinner tonight? We haven’t seen you in such a long time. Please come home, son.”_

He curls up further into the couch, clenching his eyes shut as they sting and gulping down the rancid taste of alcohol staining his tongue. He feels sick to his stomach and it cramps as he hugs a pillow to himself. Jongin shakes and shivers as he hears the answering machine roll back through the many messages he’s missed.

_“Hi, Jongin, it’s Chanyeol. I know you’re going through a rough patch right now, but the company really needs you—I need you to give me at least something. Some kind of draft, an idea, something. Write down your feelings, maybe you can turn that into something? Give me a call soon.”_

_“Hey, it’s Yixing. Why didn’t you come to the club last night for the gig? I really missed you, and the club manager was kind of pissed that you weren’t there. Is everything okay?”_

_“Hey, it’s Yixing. There’s a gig tonight for the club downtown. It’s at 8. Meet me there, okay?”_

_“Hello, this is Kyungsoo’s manager, Minseok. Please stop spamming his phone or we will have to block you. In addition, please change the answering machine message. We do not want people getting the wrong idea.”_

_“Jongin, I know this is hard, but you need to stop calling me. It’ll be easier to move on if you just—“_

Somewhere in his haste, Jongin stomps over, knocking over the scattered array of beer bottles and cans with his stumbling steps, and yanks the machine from the wall, throwing it across the room and watching with labored breathing as it dents the wall and clatters to the floor. He looks over to the cordless phone laying alone on the table before he takes it in his hand, tears blinding his vision as he remembers that it was  _Kyungsoo_ who picked out this phone— _Kyungsoo_  who had to convince Jongin that this phone would be perfect for their home.

It slips from his fingers and falls to the floor, the screen cracking into a web-like design.

He decides he doesn’t need it anymore.

 

Jongin is twenty when he meets Kyungsoo. He meets him at a restaurant that Kyungsoo performs regularly at and decides that the singer has the loveliest voice. There are hearts in his eyes, a gleam in the room, and everything is black and white except the two of them. Whatever he sees in Kyungsoo, Kyungsoo sees in him and they manage to bump into each other outside of the restaurant. Jongin stutters as he asks him out on a date.

Kyungsoo kisses him after the first date and fucks him on the fourth.

Jongin tells Kyungsoo that his eyes are filled with stars and that his voice makes him feel as though he’s floating aimlessly through the galaxy and the older man laughs and tells him that he’s crazy, but in the adorable way. And Jongin is one-hundred percent sure that’s the moment when he falls in love with Do Kyungsoo.

A year later, Jongin publishes his first bestselling novel and Kyungsoo moves in with him. When Jongin’s small apartment doesn’t do it for them, they buy a house a few months later.  Jongin lets Kyungsoo pick out everything and he begins to work on another novel. It gets just as much popularity as the other, ranking him as one of the best young novelists. He meets Yixing when writer's block hits and the two take gigs dancing and performing at night clubs. Kyungsoo still gets money singing at the local restaurant, though he begins to take up more gigs.

Another winter passes which bleeds into a new year and suddenly Kyungsoo is scouted by a major entertainment company, and then it isn’t just Jongin who loves Kyungsoo’s voice. Hours alone at home turned to weeks alone at home—and then months.

And without any explanation or insight, Kyungsoo ends their relationship and Jongin’s heart shatters into a million sharp pieces that wreck his intestines and melt his insides into numb pool of nothing. The first days alone were the worst. He is used to being alone, but knowing that Kyungsoo isn’t coming back makes it worse. Jongin is confused and hurt, so he calls Kyungsoo and calls him and calls him until he is sobbing as he leaves a message every time his call is denied. He pleads and cries for Kyungsoo to come back.

Then he realizes it doesn’t even matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. What was the point of his life before Kyungsoo came along? What was he even trying to accomplish? So he holes himself up in his house and ignores anyone and everyone. Jongin drowns himself in cheap beer and sleeps all day. When he showers, he leaves the water freezing cold until his skin is numb, almost like he’s punishing himself for being useless, worthless, a crybaby.

So he stops crying.

 

Jongin avoids the calls from his parents, his friends, and his editor. He decides to stop pathetically lounging around at home. Instead, he takes an interest in the nightlife, the clubs, and the places people go to forget when they don’t want to think about anything anymore. He goes out reluctantly the first night and dresses up for once. He still has bags beneath his eyes and he’s sure he’s lost weight and is paler than he used to be, but that’s surely the aesthetic now. He keeps a straight face so that no one notices that he’s seconds from cracking apart.

The bass of the club rattles his bones and the lights are extremely distracting. It smells like sweat, sex, and smoke, and Jongin is intimidated by the many people crowding the dance floor. He settles for the bar, ordering something strong and hoping that the sooner he’s drunk, the easier it’ll be to loosen up.

It’s not too long before a short blond sits next to him and sparks up a conversation. Jongin learns his name is Junmyeon, and he has pretty pink lips and a very handsome face. He has a soft voice like Kyungsoo’s, and he says he sings. And when he fucks Jongin in a cheap hotel room, he’s gentle and slow, like Kyungsoo was. Jongin cries and Junmyeon mistakes it for tears of pleasure.

Jongin wakes up the next day buried beneath the hotel sheets alone with Junmyeon’s number written on his arm. And he scrubs it off in a hot shower, watching the ink run off his arm in blackened rivulets of water that swirl down the dingy drain. He feels as though he should have learned something from that one night stand, but Jongin goes home and empties his fridge as he waits for the evening to come once again.

That evening he goes to the same night club, sits in the same lonely spot, and gets picked up by another stranger after drinking something that makes everything swirl into nothing. Jongin doesn’t ask for his name, but he’s given it. Zitao fucks him in the bathroom stall, shoving him up against the door until Jongin’s tears and drool are smeared against the surface. When the taller man finishes, he leaves Jongin crumpled on the floor, high with ecstasy and the alcohol thrumming through his veins. Dollar bills are shoved into Jongin’s jeans and he knows what that means, but he doesn’t want to think about it and uses the money to buy a load of sweets from the convenience store in the early hours of the morning. It tastes bland, but he stuffs his face anyways because it makes him feel better somehow.

 

Jongin loves sleeping—he likes sleeping when Kyungsoo is by his side. He likes it when the older man cards his fingers through his dark hair and holds him close because Jongin is scared of being left alone. And he adores it when Kyungsoo whispers sweet nothings as they lie in bed together on a lazy Sunday. Kyungsoo kisses his temple and runs his fingers along the length of his spine before softly murmuring pleads for Jongin to get up.

“What’s for breakfast?” Jongin asks sleepily, though he already knows just what Kyungsoo is going to prepare for him. He opens his bleary eyes and sits up before a kiss is pressed to his lips and Kyungsoo smiles in earnest.

“Sunny-side up eggs,” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes as he says the usual line that has Jongin tickled pink, “because you’re my sunshine.” With an ecstatic and cheesy smile, Jongin tilts his head up to bump their noses together, relishing in the warm sheets and the adorable boyfriend before him. He snickers as he twines his fingers with Kyungsoo and drags the other male back down onto the bed on top of him.

“Let’s skip breakfast, okay? What’s the harm of lying here all day?” Jongin sighs as he runs his hands over Kyungsoo’s bare back. As the older male pulls his face away to look at him, his hands skitter up Kyungsoo’s sides until he reaches his cheeks, cupping them and stroking his cheekbones. He envies how Kyungsoo’s skin is always so soft and smooth, impeccably cream-colored and consistent.

He watches as Kyungsoo’s thick eyelashes flutter shut and admires how beautiful he looks as he smiles softly, accepting defeat and lying on Jongin’s chest. “Where would you be if I wasn’t here to wake you up?” the raven-haired man murmurs, the corners of his plush lips tugging upwards, and Jongin takes that opportunity to touch the petal-like smoothness of Kyungsoo’s bottom lip.

“Still asleep,” he answers.

 

When Jongin wakes up there’s no kisses, no words, no warmth, nothing. There are cold sheets, the darkness of a stranger’s home, and semen caked between his thighs that itch. His head is pounding and he can hardly remember the night before as he sinks into the pillow beneath him. It’s soft and feels expensive, bringing back vague memories of russet hair and vanilla scented cologne. It reminds him of Kyungsoo and his stomach churns violently at that thought. He sits up and discovers that he actually isn’t alone. An arm draped across his hips, leads to a rather attractive male with a lean stature, messy hair, and smudged eyeliner.

Jongin stares at him with apathetic, tired eyes and recalls his name was Sehun. Bile rises in his throat, but he swallows it down. He isn’t sure what to do. Usually when he wakes up, the person he slept with is already gone. Would it be rude to leave? He doesn’t know.

Then he hears a groan and looks down to Sehun cracking one eye open, furrowing his brows. The arm around Jongin’s torso slaps his tummy. “I don’t remember your name,” Sehun mumbles, “but you should go back to sleep.” His thumb presses into Jongin’s navel as he pushes him down to lie back on the pillows.

“Kai,” Jongin supplies quietly as Sehun lies on top of him, “it’s Kai.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not the name you gave me last night.”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Sehun hums, and Jongin thinks Sehun is actually pretty like this, with bruises decorating his neck, droopy makeup, and bedhead. There’s a tattoo climbing up his arm and alcohol in his breath, and Sehun stares at him for a moment, most likely wondering what Jongin is looking at. “You look like shit,” he comments after a moment of thought.

Jongin doesn’t bother to reply, fluttering his eyes shut and hoping that Sehun will stop talking to him. He didn’t want to make friends or recuperate. He wanted to sleep, drink, eat, and suffer. Wash, rinse, repeat.

The scent of vanilla chokes him as Sehun kisses at his jawline. Jongin suffocates, heart thudding slowly in his chest as he falls asleep.

The next time he wakes up, Sehun is gone. Jongin feels empty, somehow, as he throws on his clothes and leaves. He spots a note folded up on the side table with “Kai” written on it, but he ignores it. Kai isn’t his name. He has no obligation whatsoever to read Sehun’s wasted words. Jongin lingers for a bit, but feels disgusted and dirtied due to his unclean state and leaves Sehun’s lavish condo abruptly.

He doesn’t want to go home and ignores the looks he gets as he walks down the streets, a limp in his step. Jongin cowers under their judging stares. He feels ugly, with his messy, oily hair and rumpled clothes. His eyes are most likely bloodshot and smeared with the eyeliner Sehun had forced on him at the club the night prior. The writer doesn’t want to look in the mirror though or even the reflection in the window shops he passes. He gets all he needs to know by how people react. They probably think he is a low-life. Jongin wants to tell them he isn’t, but maybe after the course of a few weeks, he is.

After a breakdown that resulted in smashing everything in the kitchen to bits, Jongin hardly goes home. It’s only for brief amounts of time. He never sleeps there anymore. He only goes to shower and change his clothes, only if his overnight escapades don’t offer him clothes or a nice shower. Jongin never takes without permission, however, which is why he’s stuck in his current situation.

He walks around the city aimlessly, a blank look in his eyes. He begins to feel a little dizzy until he realizes it’s well into the afternoon, and he hasn’t eaten anything. Jongin turns and ends up at a fast-food chicken place. As he steps into line, he digs his hands into his pockets, pulling out a few dirtied bills and coins. He only has around 10000 won. It isn’t much, considering he wants to use it for getting something at the liquor store, but food seems much more appealing at the moment.

Jongin spends half of it and sits by the window of the restaurant, indulging in the greasy fried chicken and the way it somehow comforts him. He wants to curl up and sleep there, but he figures it’s not the best idea and gets up, throwing his trash away and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He’s bored and has nothing else to do, so he goes up and orders the same thing as before, spending the rest of his money without any thought. Jongin feels even better when he sits down again and fills his stomach to the brim.

He’s so focused on his food that he doesn’t notice someone calling his name and then sitting down in front of him—until a notebook slams down on the surface on the table. Looking up, he recognizes the person to be his editor, Chanyeol.

“I’ve been looking fucking everywhere for you!”  He says in a hushed, but angry tone, eyebrows furrowing. “I checked your house, called Yixing, and even called your goddamn mother, Jongin. They both say they haven’t talked to you in over three months. Where the hell have you been?” Chanyeol rarely gets angered, usually having a lot of patience with Jongin, being his editor and all. But the thing that really shocks him is  _three months_. It’s been three months since his life wasn’t really a life anymore.

Jongin doesn’t meet his eyes. “Out,” he answers quietly.

Chanyeol opens his mouth like he wants to go on an angry rant but sighs, leaning back in his chair and calming himself. “I’m…I’ve just been really worried about you, okay?  Your mom would’ve filed a missing person’s claim if it hadn’t been for your neighbor telling me they’d seen you coming in and out of your house. And just…seeing you like this,” he gestures to Jongin’s dreadful appearance, “it scares me.” He stops, as if to wait for some sort of reply from Jongin, before continuing. “I’ve been telling the company you’ve been working hard on a new novel, which is why you haven’t submitted anything. I can’t keep it up forever though. Whatever it is you’re doing…you have to stop it. Jongin, you can’t keep running away.”

“Shut up,”

“Kyungsoo wouldn’t want this. I know you two went through a bad break up, but you…you can get some help if you need it. Kyungsoo is obviously over it so why don’t you try to help yourself?”

“Please stop,” Jongin whispers, clenching his eyes shut and clamping his hands over his ears. He doesn’t want to hear that name anymore. He doesn’t want to be reminded of stars, sunshine, or vanilla. He’s been working so hard to forget and his worst fear is to start remembering. Chanyeol continues to talk but Jongin can hardly hear him, the hands over his ears muffling the sounds into garbled blurs of words. But that name fills his ears like poison, it heightens and heightens until he feels as though Chanyeol is shouting it and engraving it into his skull.

“SHUT UP!” he screams, shocking everything and everyone in the restaurant into pure silence. Jongin opens his eyes to see Chanyeol looking at him with an agape expression. He can hardly bare it and stands, clattering his chair to the floor in his hurry as he dashes out of the building and into the street, panting like he had just run a mile.

Jongin vomits in an alleyway only seconds later with thoughts of sunny side-up eggs.

 

Kyungsoo breaks up with Jongin so suddenly that he is devastated, enraged, and numb all at once.

Jongin is overjoyed when he’s told over the phone that Kyungsoo is coming home after his schedule, so he does his best to look nice and clean up the house. He wants Kyungsoo to feel comfortable because he’s been working hard over the past few months. Jongin wants to hold him and kiss him and indulge in cuddles because Kyungsoo is the best cuddle buddy. He imagines his lover will thrust open the door, and Jongin will greet him with kisses and Kyungsoo will giggle.

Instead, he’s greeted with a tired and overly stressed Kyungsoo who retreats straight to their bedroom when he enters. Jongin thinks nothing of it, figuring that his boyfriend is most likely exhausted from the flight home and just wants some rest. But when he makes his way into the bedroom after him, Jongin freezes at the sight of Kyungsoo getting out his old red suitcase and beginning to stuff things in it.

“Are you going away again?” he asks somberly, thinking how it’s unfair how Kyungsoo has to leave when he’s finally come back after a few concerts in China. Jongin walks up behind his boyfriend and hugs him, nuzzling his neck. It’s quiet for a moment as Jongin sways them side-to-side, relishing in the warmth of his love and the scent of vanilla that still sticks to his skin.

“Jongin,” Kyungsoo suddenly speaks, “I think…we should stop.” His voice is still soft, but it has a steel edge, something Jongin isn’t used to hearing.

“Stop…?” Jongin asks in a shaking voice. He loosens his hold, and Kyungsoo turns to face him.

His eyes are cold and emotionless, and Jongin can’t see his reflection in them. “I mean, stop this…all of this. We should—should break up. This can’t work anymore.”

Jongin’s world comes crashing around him and his heart shatters instantaneously. He takes a step back and his vision blurs as tears pool in his eyes. “Please,” he says and his voice cracks, “please don’t do this, Ky-Kyungsoo. I don’t…I don’t understand. What did I do wrong? I can fix…fix it!” Jongin sobs as he pleads, moving his hands up to rub at his eyes. He’s always been a crybaby, and he hates it.

“There’s nothing to fix,” Kyungsoo murmurs as he returns to packing his suitcase, darting around the room and grabbing this and that. It shocks Jongin to the core, never has Kyungsoo acted so coldly to him, and never has he _not_ comforted Jongin when he was crying. It’s as if there is a stranger standing before him, not his boyfriend of four years.

“I-I,” his lips quiver as he tries his best to come up with some way to convince Kyungsoo to stay, “I still love y-you.” It’s a weak attempt and he knows it. He just doesn’t know what to do or say. Jongin never imagined their relationship coming to this.

Kyungsoo’s next words are like bullets to his heart.

“I don’t,” he says, “I don’t love you anymore.”

A frozen, numbing sensation spreads from Jongin’s heart as he stiffens from shock. Tears streak down his cheeks but he doesn’t feel them. His throat dries up, and he can hardly process the thought that Kyungsoo doesn’t love him— _Kyungsoo doesn’t love him_.

The singer continues to talk as though he is oblivious to Jongin’s shocked state. “It’s for the best. I can’t keep going back and forth between here and my schedule. It’s never going to work. And since I’ve been gone, I can’t—I don’t feel anything towards you anymore. I’m sorry.”

“Is it…Is the company making you do this?” Jongin asks quietly, staring at the carpet with blurred vision. He’s scared to look at Kyungsoo.

“No, Jongin, this is my decision.” Jongin hears the suitcase being zipped shut before it’s wheeling towards him, accompanied by footsteps. A hand touches his arm and it spreads heat. Jongin wants to scream. “I’ll…come back later for the rest of my stuff. It will be my manager though, not me. So this is goodbye, Jongin.”

Jongin finally looks up and his eyes are puffy and red and his lips are trembling. “Please…Please don’t leave m-me,” he begs one final time. He knows it’s useless, and he feels pathetic for not being able to let go.

Kyungsoo quirks a small smile, as if Jongin just makes it harder for him to go, and he pats Jongin’s arm before making his way out of the room. Jongin doesn’t follow; instead he falls to his knees as the front door squeaks shut.

 

Jongin’s jacket scratches against the brick of the building as he slumps against it, dragging himself along hazily towards his destination. A bottle of hard liquor with a name he can’t pronounce or even read in his current state is gripped loosely in his fingers, clinking against the wall. He can’t remember where he’s going exactly, but his feet continue to carry him towards the dirty part of town. He has been going there frequently. Most think he has a pretty face and take him into their homes pretty easily.

It’s funny how he’s become so dependent on alcohol to keep him rooted to life. Jongin used to hardly drink at all, even in his high school and university days. And he’s still pretty sure he can’t name above five types of alcohol. These days he just grabs whatever is on the shelf of the liquor store that’s cheap enough. He’s on his last bottle because he needs to save money to pay the bills; his savings are just about dried up. He considers just abandoning his home, but a small sliver of him still protests against just letting go of everything.

Jongin hiccups and fumbles in his steps, managing to catch himself with a sweaty hand on the brick wall. He finds himself in front of a club he’s been to a few times, the usual crowd of lingering young adults gathered in the front and the alleyways. Sometimes Jongin sees fights, and he’s gotten knocked on his ass once or twice before. He does stupid stuff when he’s drunk, he finds.

He doesn’t even care anymore. He doesn’t see the point in continuing on when there’s nothing to look forward to. There’s no one to come home to, no one willing to listen, and no one who understands. Jongin was abandoned. And maybe he’s overreacting, but he doesn’t care. He wants to be wrecked, to be degraded to nothing, to become someone who doesn’t give a shit.

“Jongin? Is that you, Kim Jongin?”

A familiar voice tugs him out of his slow thoughts and Jongin looks up from his slumped position to look up. It’s a man about his age with raven hair and eye shadow smeared around his eyes to give him a fierce look, but he looks more like a raccoon with Jongin’s blurry vision.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jongin slurs out, straightening up a bit, thinking the guy wants something from him.

“It’s me, Lee Taemin, from junior high?” he introduces, effectively jogging Jongin’s memory. Taemin had been one of his best friends when he was in primary school and up to junior high. Jongin had stopped hanging out with him in high school due to the fact that Taemin got involved in drugs and all sorts of trouble. It’s no surprise that he’s managed to run into him here.

“Oh,” he replies, taking a swig from his nearly empty bottle and feeling his liver disintegrate as he does so. Taemin slings an arm around Jongin’s shoulder.

“Man, I’d never thought I’d see you around these parts. You were always a goody-two-shoes. What happened?” Taemin asks, walking them both down the sidewalk like he owned the place. Jongin looked up, noticing that Taemin still looked the same, all baby-faced and what not, but had obviously matured. He looked pretty, in a dangerous kind of way.

Jongin leans against Taemin’s shoulder, like he was someone he knew well, not a past friend who is probably a completely different person than he once knew. “Nothing happened,” he lies, musing at the thought that he used to be a terrible liar.

“Really? Nothing happened?” Taemin narrows his eyes, digesting the answer before shrugging in acceptance. He smiles in a carefree manner. He fits in with the scene around them. “Well, I happen to own this lot. My…business and I are doing rather well.” Jongin knows what he means by “business” but doesn’t comment on it. “I heard you became a writer. How’s that going, Jongin?”

“I’m n-not anymore,” Jongin snorts, practically clinging to the other man because the whole world is spinning. “I probably lost my job,” he laughs like he had just cracked the most hilarious joke. He then hiccups and says like an afterthought, “I’m Kai now. D-Don’t call me Jongin.”

Taemin freezes at Jongin’s last statement before snickering, dragging the younger male into a nearby alleyway and pinning him to the wall, making the glass bottle slip from his fingers and shatter on the ground. Suddenly Taemin’s face is very close and Jongin’s vision spins, finding it hard to focus.

“Kai, you’re Kai?” Taemin asks with smirk on his face, one that makes Jongin’s stomach bubble with nervousness. He starts to feel as though he should’ve run away when his name was called out. “God, now it makes sense. You’re famous, I’ve heard.” A finger comes up to stroke Jongin’s bottom lip, tugging it down and watching it pop right back into place. “They say you’ve got the perfect lips for sucking cock, and they were right. How much do you want, baby?”

Jongin’s breath quickens as Taemin bends down to kiss at the column of his neck and whimpers as he bites down, nibbling on the skin before sucking darkening bruises onto his throat. Heat grows in his lower stomach involuntarily and his breath hitches as Taemin pulls back to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well? 5000 won, 10000 won…I’ll even give you 20000 because we’re old buddies,” Taemin’s hand sneaks underneath Jongin’s shirt, nails scratching his stomach before teasing one of his nipples, finally eliciting a soft moan from him.

It’s okay. Though he’s never outright accepted money, it makes no difference, he thinks. “20000,” Jongin sighs, the alcohol swimming in his blood making him turn warm with euphoria. As Taemin steps back with a smirk, Jongin falls to his knees, scrambling to unbuckle Taemin’s belt, heart thrumming in his ears.

Once Taemin’s erection is exposed, Jongin strokes it with his hand once, twice before pressing a kiss to the head. Fingers thread in his messy hair, pushing him forward and urging him on. Taemin spits out a curse as Jongin finally takes him in, having zero compassion as he thrusts his hips forward, leaving Jongin to sputter and choke, hands clinging to Taemin’s thighs as he gags.

Jongin closes his eyes, tears running down his cheeks as he’s forced to swallow around the dick in his mouth. He feels disgusted with himself as he feels the saliva trickle down his lips and run down his chin. It seems like forever until Taemin’s movements become hurried and sloppy. Jongin gasps for air as he pulls away.

“Open your m-mouth, fucking slut,” Taemin grunts out as he jacks himself off furiously, “gonna come all over those pretty lips, oh god— _fuck_.” Jongin barely has time to even understand what the other male said before hot spurts of cum land on his eyelashes, cheeks, lips, and nose. He collapses against the wall, slumping down on his bottom as he desperately tries to catch his breath. His head spins from the lack of oxygen to his brain and his alcohol intake. He feels a nasty headache coming on and watches with watery eyes as Taemin zips his pants back up, hands appearing with a wallet and counting the right amount of cash for the job.

Bills seem to rain from the sky, fluttering down to land in between his legs. Jongin looks up with a blank stare as Taemin reaches down to wipe the semen and saliva from the brunet’s chin.

“See you around, Jongin,” he murmurs as he exits the alleyway, leaving Jongin alone in the shadows.

It takes a moment for Jongin to gather his senses as that numb feeling he always has after something such as this happens builds up in his body. He wipes off his face with the bottom of his undershirt, leaving his skin feeling sticky and oily. Picking up the fallen cash with frozen fingers, feeling like the temperature has suddenly dropped twenty degrees, he stuffs it into his jacket pockets, quietly getting to his feet.

Jongin feels suddenly sober as he goes in the opposite direction, away from Taemin and the dirtied air surrounding the place.

He ends up at a McDonald’s, one that’s open until late. The only other person in there is some hobo, probably in to stay out of the cold, and Jongin feels like their statuses aren’t too different as he steps up to the register. Jongin orders five cheeseburgers and a drink, gaining a concerned look from the cashier. He doesn’t care though, stiffly handing over a quarter of the money given to him by Taemin.

Spending money from a blowjob on cheap fast food, it almost makes him laugh.

Jongin takes a seat in the corner, in front of the T.V. that’s playing low-quality reruns of this week’s comeback stages. He slurps down the soda to soothe his throat and get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth before unwrapping his first greasy, messy cheeseburger. It tastes fulfilling and disgusting at the same time, and he stares blankly at the television as he eats.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore. There was a point to all of this mess, but he’s long forgotten it. Jongin isn’t even sure how long it’s been since it all started. He hasn’t been home in such a long time. He hasn’t seen his family in such a long time or his friends. He’s paid his bills but he’s basically broke and most likely out of a job. And he’s turned into prostitute.

Jongin laughs quietly to himself. Prostitutes do it for the money—he does it to forget.

It’s when a familiar voice emanates from the television that he realizes he’s crying. Saltwater drips down his dirty cheeks and soaks the bread of his second sandwich as Jongin eats, shaking and clenching his teeth shut to stop the sobs from coming out. His nails dig into the burger as he looks up to the blurry screen that can hardly capture Kyungsoo’s beauty as he sings the most beautiful melody into the microphone, melting Jongin’s interior.

“It’s y-your fault,” he sobs, finally letting the weight escape his chest. Jongin can’t hold it back anymore as he cries messily and loudly. He’s absolutely hideous as he turns red-faced and teary-eyed, crying like a baby. “You did this to me. I-I don’t even know what…what to do anymore! How could you leave me alone, Kyungsoo? Wh-Why did you l-leave me like th-this?” Jongin buries his face in his sleeve and slumps across the dingy table, bawling and weeping. He cries Kyungsoo’s name over and over like a mantra.

He feels stupid. Stupid for going on such a stray path, stupid for ignoring those around him, stupid for dragging on for so long. Jongin realizes what he’s done to himself, and he hates it. He feels like suffocating and breaking free at the same time, and he’s overcome with a huge wave of heartache as he remembers Kyungsoo, who walked out on him and is successful while Jongin’s stuck trying so hard to forget. The song that echoes from the television mocks him.

“Jongin, Jongin,” a hand comes to rub his back, the first gentle touch in such a long time that he flinches. “Shh, Jongin, it’s okay.” The voice sounds familiar, comfortingly familiar that he looks up with watery eyes. It’s Yixing, and Jongin suddenly remembers that he works at this very McDonald’s during the weekdays. Yixing—who was a friend that he’d ignored, a friend who’d been worried about him.

Jongin rubs at his eyes but he can’t stop the tears or the shuddering breaths. Yixing seems to understand somehow as he moves to turn off the television, continuously rubbing Jongin’s back to comfort him. “Jongin, is there someone I can call? Can I call someone to come get you?”

He hyperventilates as he tries to speak through the sobs bubbling up. “Ch-Ch-Chan…ye-yeol,” Jongin manages to say, chest moving up and down with his hiccups. “I-I’m s-sorry,” he cries, “I’m so s-sorry.”

Yixing smiles softly and nods to him, petting the back of his friend’s head. “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m just happy you’re safe,” he replies, knowing just what Jongin is apologizing for. “Stay put, okay? I’m going to go call Chanyeol.”

By the time Chanyeol arrives, Jongin is sniffling quietly to himself and still shedding tears as Yixing sits beside him, hugging him close and rubbing his back. He doesn’t know why he deserves such treatment, considering the useless worry he’d put both Yixing and Chanyeol through. But nonetheless, the two are extremely kind to him as they were before.

Chanyeol bursts through the doors, tears in his eyes at the sight of Jongin sitting down with Yixing, exactly as the latter had told him. Jongin apologizes to him too, not sobbing as uncontrollably as he had been with Yixing but just as wholeheartedly apologetic. Chanyeol smiles just as Yixing had and helps him out to the car wordlessly, buckling him in and everything.

“A-Are you t-taking me…h-home?” Jongin asks as the redhead backs out of his parking space.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol replies, “I’m taking you to your parents’ house. You’re not gonna run away again, are you?” He looks at Jongin with expectation and the other man gives a miniature smile.

“I-I’ll be fine by m-myself…you don’t have to…”

“I don’t have to, I want to. You’re not worthless, okay? Just because…things happened doesn’t mean you don’t still have a family and friends. We’ll always be here for you, Jongin,” Chanyeol reaches over and ruffles Jongin’s messy hair with a hand. “Trust me, okay? Just spend some time with your parents. A few days, a week, a month, it doesn’t matter. You can go home when you feel ready. I’ve been housesitting for you anyways.”

The writer doesn’t look particularly convinced but he wipes his puffy eyes again and gives another shaky smile. “O-Okay,” he says quietly.

Jongin ends up falling asleep on the hour long ride on the way there. Chanyeol doesn’t look the least bit tired though, even when it’s early morning and he’s driving for a long time. And Jongin has no idea how to feel about the sudden support and change. He finds himself tired and just wanting to sleep. It’s so warm in Chanyeol’s car, and he feels safe.

 

The cameras flash, fans scream, and photographers call out his name, asking him to look this way and that. He stills himself to stop blinking every time there’s a flash, and Jongin bows to a few seniors on his way down the red carpet. He flashes a smile and wholeheartedly answers every question given by multiple interviewers. This isn’t his first time to such an event, and with the movie premiering being based off of  _his_  novel series, Jongin is just as much of a star as the actors before him.

It’s been five years since Jongin picked himself back up.

He spent three months in his parents’ home and a year in therapy. The therapy was Chanyeol’s idea, and he had at first resisted, but it was obvious he couldn’t get over his depression alone, especially when he was clinically diagnosed with depression. Jongin found comfort in his old roots and in his therapy sessions. It was hard, but he was eventually able to regain what he once had.

He sold most of his things and some of Kyungsoo’s things that had been left behind. Jongin sold the house as well and moved into a nice penthouse with Chanyeol in the city. It was hard to adjust living with his editor who practically breathed down his neck when he tried to write, but Jongin soon felt better as he was able to write to his heart’s content. His past feelings swirled onto paper and transformed into a dark fantasy trilogy that captured the hearts of many readers. Two years later, it gains popularity and Jongin scores a movie deal with Wu Yifan, one of the best directors known.

In those five years, Jongin hadn’t dated a single person nor engaged in anything remotely sexual.

Jongin hadn’t seen Kyungsoo in those five years either.

The premier goes smoothly, Chanyeol finally making it in record time. Jongin is honestly surprised at the special effects and the spot on interpretation of the novel’s plot and characters. The actor, Kim Jongdae, who plays the witty main character, makes him feel as though his book is coming to life, and Jongin almost cries right then and there. Once the film is over, he goes straight to Wu Yifan to give his appreciation and teary gratitude.

“You loved it?” Yifan looks as if he’s about to cry as well, laughing bashfully. “Wow, thank you, that’s the best praise I could ever receive from the writer himself. “

“You’re welcome,” Jongin grins and shakes the director’s hand. “I can’t wait for the next two movies.”

“Haha, neither can I,” he returns the smile. “By the way, I’m throwing a birthday party next week—for me, obviously—and I was going to invite you. Would you like to come?”

Jongin isn’t too crazy about parties, but he trusts that it will be more formal than the parties he’s used to, considering it’s for a rich and famous director. He nods eagerly. “Sure, I’d love to come.”

 

Yifan’s party venue is his fancy and overly expensive home, grander than anything Jongin could ever imagine. It’s packed with celebrities, friends, loud music, and extravagant decorations. There’s alcohol involved and he winces at the sight. Chanyeol drinks, but Jongin steers clear of anything containing any amount of alcoholic content. Never again, he tells himself.

He socializes and dances, snorting at the sight of Chanyeol trying his hardest to show off his moves to the famous ballad singer, Byun Baekhyun. Jongin never sees Yifan anywhere, and he figures that it’s probably impossible to find him. He definitely doesn’t want to adventure around the house, who knows what he could walk into.

When he loses sight of his editor and friend, Jongin makes his way outside, sitting on the ledge of the back porch, dangling his legs through the bars and listening to the bass thump through the walls of the house. He lets out a sigh, looking up to the stars and waiting for something poetic to pop into his brain and maybe fuel another written work. He’s been stuck with writing lately, knowing the world is just waiting for him to come out with something else.

Jongin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He hears footsteps approaching his sitting form and then he swears he smells vanilla in the air. It warms his chest and his heart stutters with familiarity. He knows someone is standing behind him, but he doesn’t dare to look because there’s only one person who smells like vanilla and would bother to approach him alone, and it sure as hell isn’t Chanyeol.  

“Jongin,” he sounds like sunshine and, when Jongin turns around, he sees the stars reflect in those doe eyes that he used to love oh-so much. "It's been a while."

The writer feels his heart break and mend all at once and his hand grips at his chest out of reflex. Jongin lets out a shuddering breath, unsure how to feel now that the object of his once affection is now before him for the first time in over five years. Kyungsoo smiles at him, and Jongin's heart becomes stuck in his throat.

"Yeah, been a while."

**Author's Note:**

> this turned out more jongin-centric than kaisoo but i still like it. sorry i didnt mean the deadline!!! but happy (late) kaisoo day :> i may make a sequel to this because it ends abruptly but it won't be for a while because i'm busy!! i dont have much else to say ty!!  
> also not really proofread because im lazy  
> give kudos and comments ty


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